The Girl Who Dared

Kade's POV 

No, sire… I have my right,” Lina said softly.

Her voice wasn’t shaking, but there was something in it that just got under my skin. It wasn’t loud or bold, but it had this quiet strength that made me clench my teeth. I hate voices like that. Too calm. Too sure. They always hide something—something sharp, something stubborn. And I couldn’t stand it.

She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t even begging like the others usually did.

She just stood there, looking straight at me with those wide brown eyes. Not blinking. Not backing down. Like she really believed she had a right. Like she thought her little voice mattered in my house.

I didn’t say anything right away. I just stood there, still, letting her words echo in the room. They hung in the air like a bad smell. My fingers slowly tightened around the neck of the wine bottle in my hand. I wasn’t drinking again—it wasn’t about that. I just liked how cold it felt. Heavy. Solid. I liked the idea that it could break. That it could hurt.

She was small, barely reaching my shoulder. Looked more like a teenager than a grown woman. She stood straight though, even when her hands shook a little. Even when she should’ve been scared out of her damn mind. But she wasn’t. Or maybe she was just too stupid to feel fear. That’s worse.

She’d only been here for one night. One. And already, she had the guts to talk back.

I didn’t even remember which agency sent her. I told them to send someone quiet. Someone who would listen. Someone who knew their place.

They failed.

“Your right?” I repeated, slowly, the words sour in my mouth. “You think this is about rights?”

I let out a laugh, but it wasn’t funny.

“You think this is your dad’s little bakery shop or something? Where people knock and wait their turn and say ‘please’? You think this is some sweet little job where you just mop floors and smile?”

She said nothing.

I hated that.

She didn’t even blink. Just stood there like a statue. Like she really thought she could win this. Like she thought I’d back down.

She wasn’t brave. She was just clueless.

Lucian was lounging on the luxurious chair, watching like he always did. Like I was a movie and he was the only one in the theater. His mouth curled up slightly, amused. He knew better than to interrupt when I was like this.

And then Jamil, from the corner, let out a laugh. Quiet, but I heard it.

“Thought she was just a little girl,” he muttered. “Now she’s a wild cat.”

Wild cat.

I didn’t like that. Not one bit.

I turned back to her. Lina.

This girl was sent here to scrub floors. And now she stood there, acting like she had a damn opinion.

She wasn’t even pretty enough to act like this. Her face was plain, her skin soft, but her eyes—those brown eyes—were the worst. Full of fake innocence. That kind of look makes me want to break things. Makes me want to break them.

“You want to test me?” I asked quietly, stepping forward.

She didn’t move.

Another step.

Still nothing.

Her eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could see her chest rising and falling faster now. But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

That was the part that really got to me.

“Mr. Kade,” she said, her voice still soft, but steady. “I didn’t come here for this. They said cleaning. Kitchen work. Normal stuff. They said it was a decent job. I didn’t agree to be… put on display.”

That last word, she almost spat it. Like it made her sick.

Display?

She really thought I brought her here to look at? Like I needed her to entertain me?

I stopped right in front of her. We were close now. I could feel her body heat. I could hear her breathing. She had to look up at me, way up. Her chin tilted back, but her eyes didn’t drop.

And for one second, one annoying second, I saw something in them.

Not pride.

Not fear either.

Something cracked. Something broken. A deep sadness that made me want to smash it just so it would go away.

“You came here,” I said low and slow, “and that means you belong here. You follow my rules. Or you’re out on the street like a stray dog.”

She flinched. Just a little. Her jaw tightened.

Good.

“Lucian,” I called, eyes still locked on her, “what do we do with girls who forget their place?”

Lucian didn’t answer. Just got up and walked to the liquor shelf, grabbing a new bottle. He knew the drill.

Lina took a tiny step back. Barely noticeable. But I noticed. I always do.

“You still haven’t turned around,” I said. “What are you waiting for? You deaf? Or just stupid?”

She still didn’t run. Still didn’t cry.

“I came to work as a cleaner, not an entertainer,” she said louder this time. Her voice shook a bit, but the fire was there now.

Cleaner.

That word again.

She kept saying it like it meant something. Like it was a shield. Like it could save her.

I stepped in again, closing the gap.

“You think I care what you came here to be?” I growled. “You think I can’t hire a machine to scrub floors? Machines don’t talk back. Machines don’t act like they matter.”

I laughed. A cold, empty sound.

“You know how many girls would kill to stay in this house? How many would crawl just to be near me? You think you’re special? You think you’re different?”

Her mouth opened a little. Shock. But still no tears.

“I’m not those girls,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, but the words still came out.

“No,” I said. “You’re worse.”

I leaned in close. My breath touched her cheek. She didn’t move.

“You came here with nothing. And now you act like you’re owed something. You act like you have worth. But you don’t, Lina. You’re a toy I definitely asked for. Just a cleaner, that cleans everything in this huge house, remember?”

Behind me, Jamil let out another nasty chuckle.

That did it.

“I quit,” Lina said. Her voice was firm. Shaky, yes, but strong enough to surprise me.

“I quit this job. Please.”